five times Tony Stark wasn't a perfect person
by psychicchameleon
Summary: Or a series of moments where Tony showed his humanity. / ch. 2: that time he was just like his dad / "An outsider can only see what one wants him to see, and Tony Stark was a man of many roles. The aloof billionaire. The mad scientist. The narcissistic genius. The Iron Man. And his most recent role—the reboot of Howard Stark" / Or in which Tony becomes who he never wanted to be.
1. Chapter 1

**an: so this is basically my response to all the anti-Tony arguments, because I was blissfully unaware that there are people that hate Tony. This first chapter is in response to the outrage at Tony kidnapping Peter. And while I agree that he endangered the welfare of a child—even though, I think Tony was hoping the dispute could be settled peacefully—there is no way that May was unaware her child was being taken across state lines. In the dark about the real reason? Of course, but if anything, I'm sure that was because Peter needed it to be that way. It was a questionable decision, yes, but damning? Absolutely not. Anyway, rant over—here's May's reaction to Tony after she finds out Peter is Spider-Man.**

five times Tony Stark screwed the pooch

1\. / that time he sort of kidnapped a fifteen-year-old

"You took my kid," she glared pointedly at him, "and don't you forget for one second that he's _my_ kid, on a life-threatening trip halfway across the globe and you didn't even think for _one second_ that I deserved to know what was going on?"

"If I can interject," Tony starts, but then her hand claps over his mouth, striking a sense of fear so deep in his chest that he thinks maybe he should've recruited her for Germany instead.

"No. I'm going to talk right now, and you're going to listen. And if you're good and manage to keep your mouth shut, maybe I'll fight the urge to scream at you until your ears bleed. Capiche?"

Her eyes were lit with a controlled, simmering anger, narrowed at him. Tony Stark wasn't a large man by any means, but the look May was giving him left him feeling absolutely minuscule.

"Peter is fifteen. Do you remember what you were doing when you were fifteen?"

Tony opens his mouth to answer but the glare she gives makes it clear that the question is rhetorical.

"When _I_ was fifteen, I was sneaking out of the house to go to keg parties and to make out with my boyfriend. Bad decisions? Probably. But I woke up with a hangover as a punishment, not a swollen face and a body covered in bruises. I was worried about washing the smell of cheap beer off my clothes, not blood stains. My biggest fear was being grounded for a week, _not dying._ Are you following me here?"

He nodded, but she wasn't done.

"But you took my kid to _another country_ and had him fight against some of the world's most powerful people because you're Tony Stark and you know best, right? How many kids do you have, Tony?"

When he didn't answer, she poked him in the ribs.

"You have permission to speak now. How many kids?"

"None," he muttered, never at so much of a loss for words as he was right now.

"Exactly," she whispered.

May paced the carpeted floor of her apartment while Tony sat on the couch, looking like a child in a time-out.

"I don't care how many times you've saved the world or what your SAT score was. You don't know better than me when it comes to parenting. Okay? You don't get to make these monumental decisions behind my back."

She stopped pacing and stood directly in front of him until he looked up to meet her eyes.

"From now on, me and you, we communicate."

May started to tear holes in the carpet again, hands waving in exasperation as she spoke.

"If it was up to me, I'd ban Peter from ever seeing you again. But I know Peter, and I know that for some ungodly reason he looks up to you," she pauses, her voice dropping to a pained whisper, hesitating as if she was debating in her head. She dropped down on the couch next to him.

"He looks at you the way he used to look at Ben."

Tony swallowed, immense feelings of guilt crashing over him.

"And as much as I dislike you right now, I can't take that away from him."

Her arms wrapped themselves around her chest, and she dropped into one of the stools next to the countertop, looking less like an enraged mama-bear and more like a terrified woman who was just trying to do right by her kid.

"But I need him to be safe. I won't be able to live with myself if I can't keep him safe."

She fiddled with her glasses for a second, looking up at the ceiling in thought.

"I never even got a chance to ease into the whole parenting thing. One minute I was the fun aunt and then a man in a suit made me sign a paper and just like that," she snapped her fingers, "my whole world changed. And then I find out that he hasn't been sneaking out to smoke weed or buy booze, which are both things that I can _handle_ , but he's been parading around town in spandex and meeting up with Tony Stark and risking his life on a nightly basis."

She puts the heels of her hand on her forehead, resting her elbows on her knees.

"And just when I thought I was getting the hang of this thing," she laughs weakly.

"I'm not the best surrogate mother. I can't cook to save my life. There are probably a million things I'm doing wrong, but I love that kid more than anything in this life, and I'm _trying._ So, I need you to be straight with me. No more lies and cover-ups and this "Stark Internship". I don't want to _ever_ find out again, months after the fact, that you used my kid as a weapon for your own agenda. Understood?"

Stark nodded, uncharacteristically quiet.

"I know that telling him he can't be Spider-Man is a lost cause and that it would be selfish of me to hold him back from using his powers to help people. That being said, promise me that when he goes in guns blazing to protect the little guy, you'll back him up. And, the _second_ he gets in over his head, I want you to send him home. Superpowers and a fancy suit aside, at the end of the day he's still just a kid, Tony. He's still just my kid."

He wrings his hands together as her words trail off, an ever-so-slight wetness twinkling at the corner of her eye.

"I was out of line to take him to Germany, period, much less without your permission," he said tentatively, "and I'm sorry." When she didn't cut him off, he continued.

"I know it's no consolation, but I was desperate for help, and I saw this remarkable person on YouTube that fit the bill. I'd hoped that I'd just need him to stay on the perimeter and web up some of my friends, and then I'd take him home. I knew there was a possibility of shit hitting the fan, but I was too stubborn to think it would actually happen, and I brought Peter into a battle that he shouldn't have been at. It won't happen again."

"Good," she said flatly.

"I know I don't need to tell you this, but Peter really is an amazing kid. And I don't know how it happened, but he's got me wrapped around his little finger."

May smiled at him for the first time since he'd walked into the apartment.

"Yea, he's good at that."

The corner of Tony's mouth lifted up in return before twisting into a grimace.

"He deserves better than me," he admitted.

May just gave him a sad look, "Peter deserves a lot more than what he has, but we can't change the cards. We just have to work with them."

She stood up again so that she was hovering above him, but when she meets his gaze, May falters a little. His eyes aren't brimming with the narcissistic arrogance that she'd been expecting; instead, they're clouded with guilt that no amount of admonishing could ever compare to.

"I forgive you, Tony, and if you're going to learn from this, you have to forgive yourself too."

"I know Peter deserves better than me too, but do you know what gets me through the day? The fact that I know Peter will always be grateful for what he has, no matter what. He loves the worst parts of me, and I know that if you let him, he'll do the same for you."

Tony had to look away for a second because the way her eyes were piercing through him, reading him so expertly in a way that very few could, was too much.

"You and me, we're in this together now. That's where we're at. You've made mistakes and you'll make more," she reached out her hand, "welcome to proxy parenthood. What matters is that you learn and try to be better."

He met her eyes again, smiling this time, as he took her hand and shook it.

Then May sat back down and seemed to laugh within herself.

"Great. I'm officially co-parenting with Tony Stark," then a look crossed her face, "not that you should get any ideas—he's still _my_ kid. My rules," she said, trying to look intimidating for a second before giving up.

"The way he looked after Germany—and I am _not_ condoning the actions you took to get him there—he hasn't smiled that big in a long time. So don't _ever_ do that again," she said, "but thank you, for giving him something to be excited about again."

He gave her a half-smile.

"Can I see him? Or is that pushing my luck," he says, "because that whole thing, the whole mom speech you gave to me, I haven't been that scared since my own mother sat me down, and I'd like to not wet my pants in front of the kid."

"Yea," she sighed, "you can see him. He'll be upset all week if you don't, and he's probably been listening this whole time, right Peter?"

At his lack of response, she put a hand on Tony's back and ushered him to the door before whispering in his ear, "make sure to ask about the girlfriend."

They both grinned as Peter whipped the door open, "aw, May, you said you wouldn't tell!"

"What, kid, you found someone to push you on the swings?" he said, stepping inside the room and dropping into a chair.

"Ooh, does she know your secret?" He asked, his voice a terrible impersonation of Batman.

May just grinned, and gently closed the door on a red-faced Peter and a man that was already doing everything in his power to be better.


	2. Chapter 2

**an: so this is a very different style than the last chapter. This came to me a few nights ago and I had to write it because I wanted to explain to myself why Tony would act the way he did in Civil War/beginning of Homecoming, and then I figured I'd post it and see what others thought. I don't know where I'm going with this fic, but this seemed like the best home for the word vomit that you're about to read. Please review and let me know what you think!**

"No, like _somebody_ will call you."

It was a classic Tony Stark line—detached, with just the perfect amount of indifference to make the listener hate him and want to be him all the same.

To an outsider, it might even sound annoyed. After all, Tony Stark had a billion-dollar company and a team of superheroes to think about. His time was expensive and limited—he couldn't afford to spend it on some teenager from Queens.

But an outsider can only see what one wants him to see, and Tony Stark was an incredible showman—a man of many roles. The aloof billionaire. The mad scientist. The narcissistic genius. The Iron Man.

And his most recent role—the reboot of Howard Stark. An unavailable father figure that wanted a child just as long as he was useful. The dad who bragged about his kid to everyone he met but left him high and dry as soon as he was home.

Tony had no intention to call Peter Parker again, that much was true, but it wasn't because he thought himself above the menial task.

He'd been a tornado of a child, always needing to play with things, touch them, take them apart and put them back together, intricately and delicately arranged like wires in a circuit.

His curiosity set him up for a life of engineering, which was just the grown-up version of what he had always loved. His mind was a raging wind that broke things down and then rebuilt them from the scattered fragments.

Tony Stark was a mechanic. He thrived in his shop, perfectly content among his robots. It was when he had to deal with other humans that his problems arose.

Because Tony Stark had always been a wild tempest—but people were not machines. They couldn't be put back together again when his storm touched down a little too close.

"I'm good, I'm good," the kid promised, hoarse from carrying an entire jet bridge.

But he was stumbling and wheezing and Tony didn't buy his "I'm good" for a second.

When Peter Parker went tumbling to the ground, every last remnant of Tony's focus and attention were on the kid. The airport and Team Cap and even the rest his own team be damned, when Peter Parker was down he was right there next to him.

He was never supposed to get hurt.

When Tony made his last-minute appearance Queens, he did so with full knowledge that the crime-fighter from YouTube was young. Everything from his build to his shoddy costume to the fact that he still lived under the care of an adult exposed that truth.

But that didn't mean his distinctive front of nonchalance wasn't thrown when he saw the fourteen-year-old walk into May Parker's apartment.

He could've backed out right at that moment. He could've offered the kid a made-up scholarship, shook his hand, and went on his way.

Maybe that would've been the right thing to do. Perhaps he'd sleep better at night if he had waltzed out of the kid's life as quickly as he had waltzed in and never looked back.

After all, he was barely even a _teenager._

But he also knew Peter Parker was so much more than that.

He'd seen all the videos—analyzed his strengths, his (clearly self-taught) combat skills.

He had heart.

When Tony watched the footage, he didn't see a fragile little thing playing grown-up. He saw a hero—someone that was more than capable of holding his own in a fight, if not horribly underdressed.

So, he built the kid a suit. Then scrapped it. Then made another one.

He planned for everything. He added a parachute. Five hundred and seventy-six web-shooter combinations.

And instant kill mode.

He hoped it would never have to be used, he really did. But he had seen what was out there and couldn't afford to take any chances. If he was going to bring the kid into this world—he was going to damn well cover his bases.

When Tony had maxed out on the suit's design, he created a fake internship.

He drafted an email to the kid's legal guardian—an aunt. May Parker.

He didn't hit send.

Some would argue that bringing a child to Berlin was reckless. Steve Rogers sure as hell would.

They'd be wrong.

Tony Stark was a lot of things. Flawed. Occasionally misguided. But reckless—at least with Peter—was not one of those things.

Peter Parker had remarkable potential to be an essential asset to their team, to be an amazing superhero. Tony had seen it over and over again in the footage. He couldn't ignore it.

But he also wasn't going to throw him into the thick of things without thinking about it first.

He kept up with the kid on YouTube for nearly a month, observing. He spent a few more months designing the suit, followed by several weeks of bringing it to life.

And throughout it all, Tony wrestled with the idea of bringing a kid into his world. He came up with running lists of pros and cons, his ever-running brain constantly debating within itself.

Tony was a genius. He'd engineered creations that put NASA to shame while he was in middle school _._ His father, however, had never cared about any of that. Howard had never given him a place at the table because he was " _just a kid"._

And it was that latent hurt—that never-fulfilled desire to be acknowledged that pushed Tony over the edge. He had to give the kid a chance.

Berlin was his ticket in; Tony didn't know it was a one-way trip at the time. All he knew was that he was in desperate need of an ally.

It was perfect, really. The mission was in and out—get Team Cap and bring them in, safe and whole, before someone else could. And yes, they might've been trained superheroes, but Tony _knew_ them.

He'd lived with them, fought next to them and for them. They were his friends. His _family._

And he knew that, despite whatever turn this argument took—however irreparably divided they seemed—that meant something. He still believed in that.

He still believed in them.

When he rocketed into space four years ago, it wasn't because he had a death wish. It was because he had finally had something worth fighting for.

He thought, after the dust finally settled on the Accords, that maybe the Avengers could be a family for Peter Parker, too.

Tony would've never convinced May Parker to entrust him with the one thing she had left if he'd had any inkling that he wouldn't return Peter in the same condition as he took him.

He never thought that Cap would drop an entire jet bridge on him.

He had blind, absolute trust in the cohesiveness of the Avengers, and that was his first mistake.

Yes, Tony Stark screwed up. He made an error in judgment.

All he wanted to do was keep his team together and give the kid a chance to get off the ground.

But irony won the day and he was left to helplessly watch as his team crumbled and Peter Parker went crashing down.

No matter how hard he tried, despite his best intentions, everything he touched was worse off afterward.

So, he took the kid home and he told him they'd call and then he did what he should have done from the start—he walked out of his life.

He never wanted to be like his father.

It was only fitting, that, in his desperate attempts to avoid his father's legacy, in giving a child the time of day that he so desperately deserved—time that he'd never been granted himself—he had run head-first into it.

Peter Parker was better off without him. Safer.

Tony's whirlwind of a life drowned everything in its path: Rhodey, Pepper, the Avengers—even himself. _Especially himself._

He wouldn't let his rolling currents drag Peter Parker under, too.

Tony told the kid someone would call, but it wouldn't be him.

Then he told himself it was for the best and hid from the sting of inadequacy that flashed in Peter's eyes. The boy had just wanted to be taken seriously for once, and God did Tony know that feeling with a strangling, intimate familiarity.

But he had to let him go, and he did it the only way he knew how. He made like Howard Stark, leaving a brilliant boy to his own devices while he cared from afar because somewhere between Berlin and New York he had lost his family and it had hurt like hell.

If he got attached to Peter, he could lose him too. Kids were not toys that he could put back together again when they were broken.

He had to beat the system before the system beat him.

He gave the teen with the puppy-dog eyes a hug that wasn't a hug (it was a good-bye) because they weren't there yet, and if Tony had anything to do with it, the would never be _there._

He couldn't ruin a child that wasn't his. He couldn't lose a game he didn't play.

That philosophy was his second mistake.

No, you couldn't lose a game if you walked away before the start.

But you couldn't win it, either.

Tony Stark could play the role all he wanted, could fool even himself, but he was wrong about one more thing: he wasn't Howard.

He'd realize that soon enough.


End file.
